Chapter 7 Human Flesh
Charles frowned instantly. He knew exactly what the security guard meant.
In the real world, such words might be interpreted as some vague threat.
But here, the guard's warning was literal intimidation—Besides him and Catherine, nearly everyone in the bar wanted to slice them up and feast on them like human steaks!
"Run!"
Without hesitation, Charles shouted and pulled Catherine deeper into the bar.
Behind them, countless figures followed, saliva dripping from their mouths like starving ghosts who hadn't eaten for ages.
The two of them ran desperately, not even pausing to catch their breath, focused only on escaping their cannibalistic hunters.
Finally, they discovered a staircase leading to the upper floor.
After a moment's thought, Charles didn't take Catherine upstairs. Instead, he opened a janitor's closet door right beneath the stairs and ducked inside.
The closet, already cramped with cleaning supplies, became suffocating with two adults inside.
With no other choice, Charles had to wrap his arm around Catherine's slender waist. They pressed against each other, barely able to hide in the confined space.
Charles could feel Catherine's heart racing against his chest. Like him, she was terrified.
Outside, footsteps echoed in waves.
Charles heard the cannibals ascending the stairs, while others remained stationed outside various private rooms.
But no one checked the closet. A small mercy amid their misfortune.
After waiting until the sounds outside had completely ceased, Charles whispered, "You don't seem very surprised?"
Catherine composed herself and replied in an equally soft voice, "I'm used to it by now. Every day when I wake up, I try to guess what kind of trial will befall me. But I never guess correctly—I can only rely on instinct and improvise."
"Have you been to this bar before?"
"Often. When I first arrived in this world, I'd come here to drink after work, numbing my thoughts with alcohol. Otherwise, I wouldn't have made it this far—I would have gone insane."
"This hasn't happened before?"
"Never. This place was one of the few spots similar to the real world, which is why I—"
"Shh!" Charles pressed his hand firmly over Catherine's mouth.
Just then, he distinctly felt a gaze sweep across the closet door, as if someone was examining it.
It was like a sixth sense, something he couldn't quite explain.
A moment later, the feeling of being watched finally disappeared.
Charles searched around and noticed a log sheet hanging on the wall, with—fortunately—a ballpoint pen by the side. He took them both and wrote on the empty page: [Let's communicate this way from now on.]
Catherine nodded silently, then followed his example: [When did you notice something was wrong?]
[The moment they served the steak. I smelled something strange—like human blood.]
[Normal steak wouldn't smell like raw blood, even rare steak. Did you ever order it before?]
Catherine shook her head.
[I used to only order fruit platters and fries. Today the bartender showed me a new menu, and I thought I'd try something different...]
Charles suddenly turned to her, gripping her shoulders tightly, his expression animated.
[That's it! Think carefully—when exactly did things change?]
Catherine considered, then wrote: [When we tried to leave?]
[No! The people in the bar hadn't completely revealed their abnormal nature then—they were just watching. The true turning point was when you took out money and the security guard didn't accept it.]
"So what are you saying?" Catherine looked confused.
Charles thought for a moment and continued writing: [We can draw a conclusion. Before you offered payment, we maintained our status as consumers—we were hunters, just like everyone else in the bar.]
[After the guard confirmed we couldn't pay, our status changed from hunters to prey!]
[This trial must be testing our ability to consume—and I don't mean with those bills.]
Charles gave Catherine a meaningful look.
From the attitudes of the guard and others, it was clear that the currency concept in the bar had completely shifted from money to human flesh.
This meant that unless they could quickly obtain enough "currency" to offset their consumption, they would struggle to escape.
Catherine swallowed hard.
She was surprised by Charles's quick thinking, and even more surprised that he so calmly accepted the reality of the trial.
But now, even after deducing how to pass the trial, they didn't know what to do.
Obtaining human flesh would be easy—everyone had it—but cutting it off as a tradable commodity was another matter.
[There must be another way.] Charles pondered. [We could try a different approach. Since we can't be consumers, let's become part of the bar staff. That way, we'd have access to the currency.]
He deliberately avoided using the term "human flesh," as in their current situation, the word would only cause anxiety.
[In that case, I might have an idea.]
Catherine remembered something from long ago, when she first arrived in this mental world. She had seen someone from the real world enter this bar, but he never came out again.
If he was still alive, he could surely help them safely pass this trial.
[Roger—we should find Roger! He's like us, from the real world. I think he works at this bar. With the trial underway, he must be affected too. He could help us.]
"Roger?" Charles softly repeated the name.
That inexplicable uneasiness surfaced again.
He had a premonition that this Roger might not only be unhelpful but could actually endanger them.
"Is something wrong?" Seeing Charles speak, Catherine also whispered her question.
"Nothing. Let's go—I'm going to suffocate in here. You might not know this, but I have claustrophobia."
A moment later, Charles gently pushed open the closet door.
He had ruined those pages they'd been writing on. Catherine followed closely behind him, her eyes vigilantly scanning their surroundings.
Just then, Charles suddenly heard footsteps from upstairs.
He quickly tried to pull Catherine back into the closet, but it was too late.
A tall, thin figure rushed down the stairs and grabbed his collar in an iron grip.
